Familiar Strangers
by The Cinderninja
Summary: When do you lose your brother? When he loses his life, or when he loses his mind?
1. Chapter 1

**Mossmask: There will be three chapters.  
****One of my earlier oneshots, Familiar Faces, left me with some serious implications that I couldn't just ignore.**

**~Dash**

* * *

Familiar Strangers: Part 1  
Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction  
by The Cinderninja

Perhaps one of the reasons Alfons was most surprised when he first met Ed was because he was supposed to be dead. So when the face of his very much dead brother found his in a crowd, and the older boy froze on the spot, Alfons followed suit. But then he shook his head and continued on. Because he knew that _his_ brother was dead, and it wouldn't do to go around seeing his face places it didn't belong. Like Munich.

Even if his brother had somehow – miraculously – survived, he definitely wouldn't be walking around Munich, of all places, fit and healthy and fine. Alfons put the strange event out of his mind for the rest of the day and by that night he had gone so far as to have completely forgotten it.

Until a knock came on his door while he was eating and studying his books. He paused and frowned, because he wasn't expecting company. And he _never_ got knocks on his door. He paused and waited, as if to see if he was imagining things. When the knock came again, he placed his book on the table, stood, and answered the door. The same boy from earlier stood on the other side, and stared at him.

Alfons closed the door. And stood there. He didn't walk away or sit back down. There was another knock on the door. Alfons opened it again. He was still there.

The two boys stood and stared at each other for a while, taking in every little detail of the others' face, and hair, and clothes – and in one case, height. Again, neither spoke. They just looked. When they were done looking, Alfons shut the door again.

The knock was longer in coming this time, but come it did.

Alfons opened it. "Did you follow me home?" He asked.

The other boy beamed when he spoke. "Al." He announced. His tone of voice didn't suit his face. He seemed happy about something or other, but at the same time troubled. He sounded glad to be here, but at the same time, disappointed in being glad. Like he thought he oughtn't be so happy.

It was a very odd tone, and therefor it was was very difficult to describe.

"Ed." Alfons admitted, and shut the door again. Because he was having a very hard time figuring out what Edward was doing on the other side of his door. But there was absolutely no denying that it was him. His eyes seemed strange, and his hair was much longer then Alfons ever remembered seeing it, but it was still certainly his older brother. His recently deceased older brother.

He opened the door first this time, before Ed had another chance to knock.

"How did you get here?"

"I walked."

Alfons narrowed his eyes, annoyed. He didn't remember Edward being that cheeky. London must have been a terrible influence on him.

"No, I mean, how did you get to Munich? You're supposed to be studying in London." He decided not to add 'you're supposed to be dead', as he supposed that wasn't the most polite thing to say to one's older brother. Also, it might seem like he was being ungrateful.

Ed frowned in confusion before a sort of understanding dawned in his eyes. "London..." He muttered under his breath, so quietly Alfons almost didn't hear it. It sounded like he was hearing the word for the first time, and committing it to memory.

"London." He repeated a bit louder. "Right... where is that?"

Alfons stared at him. "...Are you alright?" Perhaps not the best question to ask someone who minutes previous you were certain was dead.

There was a pregnant pause, filled with two brothers staring at each other awkwardly.

"... Are you going to let me in?"

Alfons had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

* * *

Alfons didn't want to be the one to bring it up. It appeared Ed didn't either, as he never did explain how he'd gotten from a blimp crash in London to following Al home and asking into his house. He also didn't seem to intend to _leave _the house.

Al had made no formal invitation for Ed to stay, but it seemed like Ed had made that decision regardless. He made no mention of his studies in London, nor did he seem to have any intentions of returning to them. Some days Al wondered if maybe Ed had gotten into some serious trouble in London and had in fact faked his death in order to escape, but always wrote it off as too fantastic. That was the sort of thing that only happened to characters in novels, he was sure.

So, neither of them spoke of London. The day when Ed showed up on the doorstep was the last time the word was exchanged between the two. Alfons quickly realized that Ed had come to him with nothing more then the clothes on his back. He had no money, and even his papers he'd lost, it seemed.

Once, he mentioned that he'd been travelling with his father. He'd stopped speaking when he saw the look Alfons had given him. Al had been perplexed and slightly annoyed by the statement, and Ed had bowed his head and finished the rest of his meal in silence, before going off to read. Alfons hadn't wanted to upset him like that, but it wasn't the first time that Ed had said strange things.

Alfons was noticing many things different about his brother recently. For one, he only called him 'Alfons'. As children, they had always called each other by Ed, and Al. But when he questioned him about it, Ed had only stared at the floor for a moment before responding that it 'felt too strange'.

He also knew that his brother had been right handed for all of his life. But now he hardly used his right hand for anything. And when he did, his movements always seemed slow, and awkward, and clumsy.

Every day, Al would look at his brother and try to ask about London, and what had happened to him from then to now. How had he gotten here, really? And what had happened that he couldn't go back? That he would abandon his studies so suddenly? Ed was a rash and impulsive person, but even he was not so irresponsible as to walk away from all of that without a reason.

And why, _why_ had Alfons been told that his brother had died, if he was fine all this time? Why couldn't he properly look Al in the eye, and why did he seem so subdued – almost ashamed? What could possibly have happened? And when did he reach a point where he felt he couldn't tell his brother about it? There were all things that Alfons wondered, and all things that he wanted to know the answers to.

But every time he opened his mouth to ask, he'd see the look on Ed's face and the words would never make it out. Because something had broken his brother in the time they'd been apart, and he no longer felt it was his place to pry. Not if Ed's constant but subtle avoidance of him was anything to go by. Ed was more then just uncomfortable around him, and Al hadn't the slightest clue what he might have done wrong.

But this was all just part of the growing enigma that was Edward Heiderich.


	2. Chapter 2

Familiar Strangers: Part 2  
Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction  
by The Cinderninja

Alfons' first clue came during breakfast one morning. Ed was staring at his food rather then eating it, so Al knew he was in one of 'those' moods. It would be one of his quiet brooding days where he sat in the study and read and drew circles and wouldn't talk to anybody.

But then he had haltingly announced "I'm... _not_ your brother." He said it as if he was unsure of his wording. Like he wasn't exactly sure whether he was trying to sound sure of himself, or guilty, or nervous. He said it as if it was something that he'd thought should have been so obvious that no one would need to say it out loud, but it was so important that he still needed to ask, just to make sure, even if it made him look silly.

Alfons stared at him for a few moments, waiting for him to look up, but he never did. So he sighed instead. "I'm sorry." He replied, and the apology seemed to confuse Ed. Then he stood up and cleared his plate. "Is that all?"

Ed's eyes flashed as something in their conversation seemed familiar to him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again. He sat there staring at the table in silence. Alfons waited. After a long silence, he continued. "I have no idea what happened to you, Ed, but I hope that someday you'll decide to tell me." And he left the room.

Right as he was passing Ed, he barely managed to pick up "I will" but said nothing of it. He recognized that resolve, and knew that eventually, he would learn what had left his brother so defeated and unsure of himself.

A few days later, Ed tried again.

"I must look an awful lot like him."

Al looked up, but didn't say anything. Ed was brooding again.

"I mean, _you_ do- that is. I remind you of your brother, okay. And you remind me of mine. But I'm not him. And you've been letting me stay here, and you've been putting up with me, but it's all under a pretense, and it isn't true. So you should know that."

And he sat with a stiff back, and rigid shoulders, and he was making eye contact though it was obvious he wanted to be looking _anywhere_ but Al's eyes. And Alfons had no idea what to make of Ed's statement. So he reached over and rested his right hand on top of Ed's own, which made Ed flinch, and he leaned in to Ed's stare, and he said "I don't care what's happened. You're still Edward."

And Ed said, "I'm not who you think I am."

And Al said, "You're my brother."

And Ed got angry and pulled his hand away, and walked off to brood in the other room.

And Al sat at the table for a little while longer and wondered what he must have done wrong, and what must have happened to Ed to make him feel that way.

* * *

Ed tried to make Alfons understand. He _really _did. Because after the conversation they'd had the other day, he realized he really was taking advantage of this boy. He'd been drawn to him because he wore Al's face, but Ed knew they weren't the same person, and it was wrong, wrong, so _wrong_, so stay here and let him think he was his brother. He knew he must look like Alfons' brother – it made sense, with all of the doppelgangers he'd seen, that he himself would have one – but he wasn't that person.

He didn't know who Alfons' real brother was or what he was like or where he may be. But it was wrong to go on letting Al think that they were the same person. Would he be willing to share his home and his food and his books with Ed if he knew who he really was? And what if the real Edward Heiderich ever showed up?

So he had to try again. This time he spent more time thinking about it. He couldn't just go around denying to be the person that he very obviously was.

The next conversation went something like this.

"Alfons... I'm not whoever you think I am. I can't be."

And Alfons thought _This again..._ but he didn't say anything out loud because as strange as these talks with Ed were, he felt like he was slowly but surely getting to the heart of things, and the truth behind what was wrong with Ed, so he didn't want to dissuade him from talking.

"Tell me why."

"I'm not even from this world."

Ed explained everything. He left nothing out. And in the story that followed, Al finally began to see the truth of things. He understood that perhaps Ed really had been in some sort of terrible accident, and he hadn't walked away as unscathed as it had at first appeared. Not all damage had to be physical, after all.

And that was when Alfons first started to feel the coldness somewhere inside him that came with the thought that maybe he really had lost his brother after all. But he pushed that thought somewhere deep, deep down, where it wouldn't bother him.

Because Ed was still in there. That much was obvious.

In the stories he started to tell about Edward and Alphonse Elric, and of a magic called alchemy, and a whole world that was the same but different, Alfons could still hear it. Underneath his shame and insistence that he wasn't Alfons' brother, and fantastic stories that he swore were the truth, was someone who was still very much Edward.

A boy who had a constant thirst for knowledge, and a stubborn streak, and determination that made it impossible to keep him from reaching his goals. And who loved his younger brother more than anything. These were all things that Alfons was familiar with.

A boy who did alchemy, and tried to bring back his dead mother, and who trapped his brother in a suit of armor. These were things that troubled Alfons, because he didn't understand how Ed could speak so freely of them, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

At first Alfons wondered if maybe his brother was being intentionally difficult, if this were perhaps some sort of prank or a scheme of his. But he dismissed that thought. Ed would not have let it go on for as long as it had. And where did that leave Alfons? With a brother who barely knew him.

It was just like how some things Ed did filled Alfons with such a sense of familiarity that it _hurt_, and yet some things were so utterly alien to him that it made him pause and think maybe this really_ was_ some other person. Some of the things about Al were just so _Alphonse_ that it was almost unbearable. Ed didn't even know if his younger brother was still alive. He didn't know if he was still in armor, or if he'd gotten his body back. And not knowing killed Ed. But to see Al reflected so plainly in Alfons was worse. And then to be reminded that it wasn't the same person.

Alfons' lack of imagination and whimsy. His loyalty to Ed even when Ed insisted he should have none. His eyes were too blue and his hair was too blond. His intelligence was still there. He took things too seriously. He had the same laugh. He refused to accept alchemy as a possibility. But he was still a scientist. And that shy smile that reached his eyes and made them sparkle - it was exactly the same.

Ed's odd accent that didn't sound like it came from London. He always had his nose in a book. His eyes were gold instead of hazel. A familiar fire still burned within them. His obsession with alchemy. He was still brilliant underneath it all. He spoke of different people and different places and a different life. His unwavering devotion to his little brother. And his grin. He had a huge toothy grin that was just so _Ed_, that no one else could ever imitate, and though he rarely showed it, that grin was his all the same.

They were achingly familiar, yet still so different.

And both boys felt the same way about the other, and it hurt them to live like this.


	3. Chapter 3

Familiar Strangers: Part 3  
Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction  
by The Cinderninja

Ed knew Al didn't believe him. Alfons would ask to hear more about Amestris almost every day. And he would smile and laugh, and then he would look troubled. Ed was no longer sure what Al thought of him. He thought that there was one more way he could try and prove he was telling the truth. He wasn't sure why he was so desperate for Alfons to believe him.

He had called Al into his room before bed one night, and decided to show him the automail. He wasn't used to taking off the weird, skin-like glove his father had made for it, and it was past time he did some maintenance on the limbs anyway.

Alfons watched in morbid fascination as Edward revealed the metal arm underneath, before reaching out and stopping his hand just short of touching it.

"That's a fake arm."

"Yep."

"You've got a fake arm."

"Mhmm."

"You _lost_ your arm." That was something most people didn't realize. They saw automail and thought it was cool. They never really thought about what it meant – that you had actually had a limb there, and then lost it. Alfons couldn't _stop_ realizing it.

"The leg's the same way." Ed explained. Theoretically, Al should already know this. Ed had told him about the false limbs when he'd told him about his and his brother's failed transmutation. He doubted Al had ever believed him though, due to his lack of belief in both alchemy and automail, making both cause and effect of his story impossible.

He rolled up a pant sleep to reveal the leg, metal exposed in the same way.

"These bits aren't as good as what I'm used to... my old stuff got wrecked and my dad had to make me these new ones. They don't really work well but they're better then anything else I could ever hope to get here, so I guess I'll get by."

Alfons didn't ask where he'd really got them. Even if he had somehow, for some reason, gone and found their father, he wouldn't have been able to make something like this. These limbs were unbelievably advanced. But the voice of the younger brother overpowered the voice of the engineer, and in the end, he simply found himself horrified by the thought of how much pain Ed must have gone through to lose two limbs.

Suddenly, things started making more sense. He'd be surprised if anyone could go through that sort of thing and _not_ come out a bit touched in the head. And the missing limbs, really, made perfect sense. His face spoke of some horrible revelation, and Ed just knew that whatever he was realizing, it wasn't what he'd intended.

* * *

Alfons wasn't sure whether or not he should confront him. He knew Ed's stories weren't lies. Whatever Ed was saying, he truly believed it. And he was still a genius, his facts weren't made up. He could recite any number of equations, and even his... 'alchemy', Alfons had to admit, made a strange sort of scientific sense, if you looked past the fact that the entire concept behind it was nothing less than ludicrous.

All the same, he missed his brother.

This boy who refused to admit to knowing Alfons. This boy who always kept him at arms length and had a hard time really smiling at him. This boy who wouldn't call him Al, because that name was saved for a different boy, who he was just waiting to get back to. This boy who'd gone through so much pain that he'd had to get fake limbs and maybe lost a little of his mind along the way.

Sometimes Alfons had to ask himself if this was really his brother. And he always felt ashamed of himself after. Because Edward needed him, more now then ever, but every time he looked at Ed, he started to see a stranger looking back at him. It was becoming too much. He just wanted Ed to look at him like an older brother again, without this shadow looming over him. Without knowing that every time Ed looked at him, he was seeing someone else. Some _other_ younger brother who never even really existed, and who Ed loved so much more then him. He knew he wasn't the right Alphonse – _his_ Alphonse. And so sometimes he cried because he was missing _his_ Ed.

And he was no doctor and he didn't know what was good or bad for someone who was convinced that they were someone they weren't and he didn't know if there was even any way for someone to get better after something like this, but he was desperate. He had gotten so, so desperate just to look at Ed and see his brother again. So he did what any scientist did, he came at his problem with irrefutable proofs.

Ed came home to find Alfons sitting on the couch with a large book and a rectangle of paper in his lap. He told Ed to come sit with him and his tone made it very clear it was a demand. Ed complied, however confused.

And he showed Edward pictures of the two of them as children. And pictures of them with their mother. And pictures of them just before Edward went off to university. And the whole time Ed was staring at the photos and looking pale. And Alfons thought that perhaps Ed was remembering something, because he looked so shocked. And Al took out the paper, which was an envelope, and opened it. And he took out a folded piece of paper, and unfolded it.

He read it to Ed. It was the letter he had received after his brother had died in an accident in London. It was very official and very emotionless, and it told him that his brother had had a most unfortunate accident with a blimp and died. Except that he wasn't dead, he was very much alive, and had two limbs less then he'd left home with, and he was confused, and Alfons missed him. He really missed him so, so much.

And Ed was staring at the letter with a pale face and wide eyes, and his mouth was open in a tiny little o, and he looked as if he had only just now realized something very, very important.

And Al hoped that maybe he'd remembered everything and that everything would be okay now. And he felt a bit guilty because that must have been something awful to go through and maybe there was a reason that Ed didn't remember it and perhaps he should have left well enough alone. But Al couldn't bring himself to really believe that, because he just wanted his brother back so bad.

And Ed was having a hard time breathing for all his shock. "Oh. _Oh_." And when he looked at Alfons there was a completely different sort of horror and guilt in his eyes. And he stood suddenly from the couch and walked the whole way to his room repeating "Oh no."

And Alfons was left alone on the couch, holding the letter in one hand. And Ed didn't come back out of his room for hours, and Alfons spent that time looking at the photos some more and crying a little bit. And he looked up when Ed finally did come out and he felt his heart drop. Because Ed was standing in front of him with his hands balled into tight fists and he wore a stony expression, like he couldn't bear what he was about to say any more then Alfons would be able to bear to hear it, but was making himself say it anyway because it was important and had to be said.

And he took a breath and he said "Alfons. I'm sorry. I'm sorry because your brother is gone and _it's my fault_." And he stood there in front of Al and didn't move. And Ed was hurt because he knew that he had hurt Alfons.

And Al looked at him as if hoping he would suddenly grin and start laughing and reveal that it had all been a joke. And when he didn't, Alfons started to cry.

And Ed couldn't move, because he was hearing his little brother cry, but he could never, ever admit that, because it would be unfair to Alfons. So he stood there and made himself listen instead.

And Alfons finally accepted that whoever this boy was, he was no longer his brother. He was just... Edward Elric.


End file.
